


Fairy Business

by Atoria (vulcan_slash_robot)



Category: Totalcox - Fandom
Genre: Fairies, M/M, Trope Subversion, alternate universe-fairy kingdom, because i fucking said so thats why, jesse is a punk, unruly prince
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-17
Updated: 2017-10-17
Packaged: 2019-01-18 13:06:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12388677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vulcan_slash_robot/pseuds/Atoria
Summary: Prince Jesse is a handful. He doesn't take his responsibilities as heir to the crown at all seriously. His father wants him to marry. His oldest friend wants him to behave. He insists those things are not as easy as they sound.[Full disclosure, I started writing this thing in about 2013 and I have no idea how it ends.]





	1. Chapter 1

“Get him back here in time for the banquet or it’ll be your abdomen on the line, Captain!”

“Right away, Your Majesty!” Captain Bain saluted smartly and clicked his heels before rushing out of the prince’s room, away from the enraged king.

He’d been down this road more than enough times already. Whatever gala occasion it may be—a grand opening of a new wing to the palace, ambassadors visiting from the Beetlekind nations, and so on—the morning before would find the crown prince vanished and the king flapping mad. The king would summon the captain of his guard in a rage and rail about the dire consequences that would befall him if the prince wasn’t back in time, and Captain Bain would return with an adult but childishly petulant young royal in tow before the event started. Graphic as the king could be in his descriptions, he was not a violent ruler. The only consequence Bain actually feared was demotion, but that would be more than bad enough.

Bain strode determinedly through the palace halls now, for what seemed like at least the hundredth time, unable to appreciate the graceful architecture or the morning sun slanting regally through the high stained glass windows. He turned sharply down a side-hall to his first stop on the traditional search and paused briefly before the door to the servants’ quarters to straighten his uniform and wings. He knocked briskly, and entered.

“Any of you lot seen Prince Jesse about this morning?” he asked without preamble. The servants knew the routine as well as he did.

“Hasn’t been by since the night before last,” answered a small maid with painted-lady wings. “Too bad too, I could do with one of his visits.”

The captain rolled his eyes.  _Butterflies_. “Anyone else? Are we sure he hasn’t just been sneaking by Yvonne looking for a different bed?”

“Hey!”

“Lay off, John, my brother’s not here.”

Captain Bain snapped to attention and bowed curtly to the monarch-winged female who’d just stirred awake under a pile of blankets.

“I beg your pardon, Princess Felicity, I didn’t see you there,” he apologized, all business.

“There’s no need to be rude to Yvonne.  Even Jesse’s enough of a gentleman to be frank about who he wants to sleep with,” the princess climbed awkwardly out of bed, and the Captain immediately blushed and looked away from her now-apparent state of undress. “Besides, I couldn’t imagine anyone would intentionally avoid this little beauty, would you?”

She draped herself languidly over the serving girl’s shoulders and planted a soft kiss on her cheek, eliciting a humble blush from the young maid. The other servants looked on with mild approval, while the Captain continued to grow more uncomfortable.

“Oh stop it you crotchety old Dragonfly, don’t look so shocked,” Princess Felicity admonished. “Just because you people mate for life doesn’t mean you need to go around judging.”

“Just as you say, mum,” Bain spun on his heel and pulled the door shut behind him as he left. Ugh.

 ****************************************************************************

The hours gradually ticked past as the Captain continued his search. All the old familiar haunts throughout the palace produced similar results. Friends and playmates in every corner and department had seen him no more recently than yesterday.  Before noon, Bain had resigned himself to checking a wider area. He stepped up onto the palace battlements and gazed out at the city. Better make this quick, time was running out. Smoothing down his short antennae and fixing his hat firmly on his head, he leaned forward and dropped off the wall.

Before he’d fallen more than an inch, his dragonfly-like wings hummed to life and propelled him back up. The Captain soared off between the glittering rooftops, darting as quickly as the insect he resembled and dropping periodically into market stalls, courtyards and other establishments where the prince could often be found. The townsfolk made way before the familiar sight of his crisp uniform and dark, neatly trimmed beard. Many of the shopkeepers knew the routine as well as the palace servants; the bartender at one nectar-house, knowing about tonight’s banquet, had even preemptively taped a sign to his window reading “Ain’t seen him, Cap” upon opening the shop that morning.

Finally, one of the prince’s favorite tea houses yielded results. The owner, a wizened old swallowtail, hailed the Captain as soon as he heard the door.

“Mornin’ yer Captainship! Or is it? Mornin’, I mean,” he wheezed in Bain’s direction.

“It’s only just gone noon, Geoffrey. Has the prince been–?”

Geoffrey silenced him with a dismissive wave. “I know what yer here for, Cap’n. He were, too, real early. Said to give you this.”

The old Butterflykind pulled a hunk of leaf out from behind the counter and passed it to Captain Bain. The captain sniffed at its torn edge.

“Birch? Oh. OH. Yes, thank you Geoffrey, you’ve been most helpful. I’ve got to rush, I’m sure I’ll see you again.”

“Yeah, next time there’s a foreign princess in town, I reckon.”

 **************************************************************************

“What took you so long?”

The prince didn’t even turn around to ask the question as Captain Bain entered their childhood clubhouse in the old birch tree north of the city. He just stayed where he was, lying on his stomach and gazing wistfully out of the back window, his majestic orange wings flapping thoughtfully now and then.

“Get up, Jesse, it’s time to go,” the Captain answered gruffly. He’d stopped standing on ceremony for this member of the royal family a very long time ago.

“Why didn’t you check with Geoffrey sooner? I thought he was one of your first stops,” Jesse mused, still not moving. “I was starting to worry about you.”

“Been changing my routine since you started catching on. Get. Up.”

“Jawwwwwwnnn…….” Jesse groaned, slumping flat with his wings out and his face buried in the throw pillow he’d been leaning on. “You used to be fun when we were kids, you know.”

“We’re grown up now, Jesse, we’ve got things to do,” John reminded him sternly, “And they’re back at the castle. On your feet.”

Jesse rolled onto his side, facing into the room and hugging the pillow to his chest but still not looking at his old friend. “Remember how we used to play here?” A crooked smile lit his face, and his eyes took on the faraway look of someone who is watching scenes from the distant past. “Bandits, pirates, heroes, army men…this place, man, it was everything. Every kind of hideout and base—“

“It was my first home,” John added quietly.

The prince finally looked at him, warmly. “Aw, that’s sweet. I didn’t know it meant that much to you.”

“I’m serious,” the captain insisted, looking puzzled. “This was literally my first home, I hatched here. Did you forget that?”

“Did I ever  _know_  that?” Jesse sat up and looked around the tiny one-room hollow again, this time clearly trying to picture it as a full-time home for a small child. He looked a bit horrified.

“You should’ve, that’s why I brought you here,” John crossed his arms and leaned against the doorway, which was really just an empty knothole. “You asked me where my family was so I brought you to meet them. All my brothers and sisters had found better places to live by then though, just like I had, and there was nobody to meet.”

“I don’t—I don’t think I ever thought you were being serious,” Jesse stammered.

“Mm, yes, I seem to recall it was difficult to make you understand that I hadn’t got any parents. That nothing had happened to them, there just weren’t any. Dragonflykind lay eggs somewhere safe and then they leave, bye kids, have a nice life!” The Captain affected a falsely cheery attitude and waved goodbye to his imaginary offspring. “We don’t do family, we don’t do heritage, and we don’t do privilege. What you get out of this life is what you’ve made for yourself. And what  _I’ve_  made for  _my_ self is Captain of the Royal Guard, which I won’t be any more if the crown prince isn’t there to greet his father’s guests this evening so  _if you would kindly get going_.”

“Dad’s not going to have you impaled on the high western temple spire, John, I don’t care how many times he says it.”

“No, but he will bust my ass back down to private, and that’s just about worse.”

Jesse started to open his mouth, with a mischievous twinkle in his eye that suggested he was about to make a terribly inappropriate joke about busting asses, when a rustling outside the back window caught his attention. He scuttled quickly back over to it and peered through once more, motioning John over to join him. With a heavy sigh, the captain crossed the room and sat on the floor beside him. Maybe if he humored the prince for a while it’d be easier to get him home in the end.

“There, she’s back!” Jesse exclaimed. “I was afraid she wouldn’t show up today, I wanted you to see this. You were supposed to get here sooner so you could watch with me.”

John turned to look out the window and immediately pulled back behind the frame when he saw what the prince was looking at.

“Really??” he hissed, highly flustered. “You don’t get enough tail at home, you have to spy on strangers bathing in the woods? Leave that poor girl alone! And why did you want  _me_  here?!?”

“Wow thanks John, I do think about things besides sex sometimes, you know,” Jesse rolled his eyes at the captain’s behavior, which had always seemed irrationally prudish to him and to the rest of the Butterflies. “I wanted you to see this because I’ve never seen anybody like her before. She’s like, like a ghost or something!”

Warily, John eased back in front of the window and took another look. There, bathing nude in a pool just behind their tree, was a small young woman with pale white skin and shockingly red hair. John’s mouth went dry and his cheeks flushed bright crimson, but he’d had enough of being shamed for his shyness today, so he forced himself to keep watching. She seemed at first to be Butterflykind, but there was something…odd, about her wings. They were intricately patterned enough, but they looked somehow soft, and faded. They didn’t quite seem to sit right, either. It wasn’t until she stood up and folded them that John realized what was odd about her.

“OH. She’s not a ghost, Jesse, she’s just a moth,” he explained. “See how her wings fold down instead of in? And she’s got massive fluffy antennae too, look there. Mothkind.”

“Really? But there haven’t been any Moths within a mile of Dad’s kingdom in thirty years. Not since the war ended,” Jesse mused, his forehead wrinkling in confusion. “I’ve never even seen one.”

“Apparently you have. And now you’re going to be seeing a whole flock of dignitaries, like it or lump it.”

The captain used Jesse’s distractedness to his advantage, overpowering him and dragging him to the door before he could even struggle.

“Hey! Stoppit!”

“I brought shackles, Jesse, and so help me if you’re any trouble I’ll use them.”

The prince grumbled, but didn’t put up any resistance. As per usual, though, he refused to fly himself home. If John wanted him back at the palace, he’d have to carry him there. It was an empty act of defiance at this point. John had had plenty of practice flying with a prince as cargo.

Captain Bain scooped the unruly royal into his arms without even waiting for him to petulantly insist upon it. Jesse sighed heavily with defeat and snuggled up into his oldest friend’s chest, telling himself that if he couldn’t get out of the banquet then at least he could make John uncomfortable on the way home. The captain’s mouth went a bit dry at this, but he’d gotten very good at ignoring that. And at telling himself that it was a perfectly natural reaction to having his personal space invaded by a man who sleeps with nearly everything he sees. He stepped out of the knothole without missing another beat and zipped away to the castle.

The two of them were much too distracted by this little ritual to notice the Moth girl below watching them go.  


	2. Chapter 2

Jesse stared morosely up at the intricately-arched ceiling of his bedchamber. He always seemed to have trouble sleeping after big royal occasions. Any other time he couldn’t get to sleep he’d usually wander off to the servants’ quarters, or invite some of them up to his room. He’d seen maids and stablehands make very interesting use of all the narrow columns supporting those intricate arches, a few times. It never quite seemed right to bring them in after a day like this, though. Probably because they’d been working so hard, he decided. They must all be sleeping like rocks.

He rolled onto his side, grunting with annoyance. Stupid John, always dragging him back for this junk. Caring more about his job than his friend. Why’d he have to grow up to be such a tightass, anyway? They used to spend every waking minute together, back when Jesse was only a caterpillar. Most people assumed that his insistence on being carried home was just a last act of rebellion, and that John had learned to fly so well with a passenger as part of his training for the Guard. The real truth of it, though, was that it reminded Jesse of a simpler time, before his wings had come in, when he was just a stubby, chubby little child with stripes all over his face and a loyal, clever friend who was willing to do all the flying for two.

Jesse smiled, lost in nostalgic daydreams again. His parents had told him the story of the day he met John enough times that he could almost imagine he remembered it himself, even though he’d been far too young for that.

***************************************************************

It had been a bright spring day, a bit more than twenty years ago. The entire royal family was trundling down the streets of the city, in a parade in honor of Jesse’s next-younger brother’s birth. The streets were thickly lined with people; it seemed as if the whole kingdom had turned up to cheer for the new prince. Jesse, barely three years old, was bundled up in his finery at his father’s right hand, riding beside his parents in the main coach and fussing awfully. He was already old enough to hate state occasions. The king and queen were busy smiling and waving at their subjects and holding up their new son, so they put a lot of effort into pretending that their older boy was not making a scene. The spectators were generally understanding, occasionally making small “awww” noises in sympathy for the over-stimulated child.

Along the way, the king had sworn he could see something darting from rooftop to rooftop, following them. He couldn’t imagine anyone  _covertly_  watching the parade for benign reasons, and it made him uneasy. His guards assured him, however, that there was nothing there.

Eventually, as they neared the last few blocks, that same tiny, speeding blur zoomed down from the rooftops and landed squarely in the middle of the street. The mice drawing the royal coach nearly bolted, but the driver was able to master them. The king leapt to his feet and spread his wings to shield his wife and children.

When the mice settled, he was able to see the source of the disturbance. It was only a child. A tiny, dark-haired, dragonfly child, dressed in cast-off rags and no older than Jesse.

“What do you want?” the king had asked, in loud, authoritative tones over the sudden silence of the crowd. The child stared back at him mutely, in either awe or terror. The king was generally familiar with Dragonflykind parenting, so due to the lack of answer, he asked, more kindly, “Have you learned to speak, young one? Have you found your home?”

Still no answer from the child. One of the mice sniffed him experimentally. He jumped at the sudden intrusion from this large creature, then smiled and scratched its nose, pushing it back. Good reflexes, no fear, the king noted. He turned to the current captain of his guard, who had ridden up alongside.

“We have a stray, Captain. What do you think of him?” he asked softly.

“Drawn in by the parade,” observed Captain Marquette, a middle-aged Mayflykind. “Lots of noise, pretty things. Can’t be sure what about it got his attention.”

“Does that matter?”

“Might,” the captain continued. A Mayfly of few words. “Dragonfly gets an idea in his head young, he sticks to it ‘till he’s dead. Gets one that’s good for you, you want him around. Trouble is, it’s hard to ask ‘em till it’s too late.”

“Well, then. Let’s give our young friend a chance, shall we?”

The king climbed down from the coach, to much intrigued murmuring from the crowd. He raised his hands to silence them, and they quieted, with an assortment of bows and curtseys. The dragonfly child, watching everything intently, mimicked them and bowed low to the king. He smiled. The child had an instinctive respect for authority; that boded well.

The young King Jeremy lowered himself to one knee on the cobblestones before the child, reaching his eye level. “What do you want, son?” he repeated, much more softly than before. “What did you see that you liked?”

The dragonfly was breathing rapidly, staring in shock at the king. Probably wondering what he’d gotten himself into. Jeremy removed his crown and held it before him. The crowd gasped.

“Something shiny? Did you want my jewels?” he asked. The child didn’t move a muscle, except to watch every move the king made with the same frightened wonderment. “No? Was it the mice? Are you interested in big, powerful animals?”  King Jeremy tugged on the bridle of the nearest mouse, drawing its face nearer to the child. The dragonfly smiled at it a little, but didn’t move.

The king was wracking his brain for the next most obvious option when the sound of his elder son’s unhappiness cut through the still air. Jesse had hated the parade enough when it was  _moving_ ; now he had to just sit here in the hot sun and wait? He wailed out loud again, trying to will the coach back to his nice cool, quiet room at the palace with his tiny infant mind. The king sighed heavily and turned back to the dragonfly; he needed to bring this to an end quickly, so that he could see to his son.

The dragonfly wasn’t looking at him anymore, though. His eyes were riveted on the coach, on the source of the unhappy sounds from a child his own age. The king quirked an eyebrow.

“Is that it, little one?” he put a hand around the child’s shoulders and led him gently toward the coach. The little dragonfly flinched slightly, but seemed relieved at this evidence that he was allowed to approach.

The queen looked on warily as the strange, silent child climbed up into the coach. She held the newborn prince tightly, away from this intruder, and glared slightly at her husband. “Trust me,” he mouthed to her.

Jesse was having a full-blown fit, screwing his eyes shut, screaming, and thrashing his stubby little limbs. King Jeremy winced; it would take hours to calm him down now. The dragonfly climbed onto the seat next to Jesse and watched him for a few moments. Suddenly, with perfect timing, he reached out and caught one of the prince’s tiny fists in mid-flail. Jesse froze and opened his eyes, gaping at this child who, from his perspective, had materialized out of nowhere beside him.

John held the prince’s hand warmly in both of his.

“Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.”

It was the first sound he’d made since he’d appeared. Jesse whimpered slightly.

“Shhhhhhhhhhhh,” John shushed him again, soothingly, and pulled him into a warm, sincere and very miniature embrace. A general “D’awwwwwwwww” rose from the crowd, but the children paid them no heed. Jesse looked perfectly content for the first time since the parade had started, and the little dragonfly seemed to have found what he’d come for.

Captain Marquette had sidled up next to the king again. “You know, old Tiberius Bain and his wife were lookin’ to have kids and not having any luck. He always dreamed of having a son in the royal guard.”

“Are you suggesting…?”

“I’ve known dragonflies, yer maj,” the captain said rather conspiratorially, “Raise this one to protect royals, and yer boy there will never be in danger a day in his life, guaranteed.”

****************************************************************************

The rest was history, of course. They’d brought John home and turned him over to the Bains, who had adopted him with all enthusiasm, and enrolled him in the guard as soon as he was old enough. A lifelong friendship with and protective impulse toward Jesse had evolved into sole responsibility for his safety. In this time of peace, that mostly meant acting as his truant officer. Still, John had performed admirably and proven himself time after time, until he was given the official title of Captain of the Guard and had his duties expanded beyond merely chaperoning a petulant prince.

That was where it had all turned south for Jesse, though, because now his friend was always much too busy for him. It seemed like the only way he could get more than a quick hello out of him was to run away or cause some other trouble. No more games, no more easy conversations, not even a shared meal. Why couldn’t he just—

A loud knock on his window cut into his train of thought. The prince sat up groggily, wondering why anyone who wanted to visit him wouldn’t just come up through the hall. He knew from experience that his third-story window ledge wasn’t a very easy place to land. Well, maybe it was that young stablehand who’d been making eyes at him after dinner. He might not know his way around inside the palace, being so new.

Jesse made his way to the window, trying to turn his stagger into a swagger. Whoever it was, he wanted to make it clear that they would be a welcome distraction. He swung the stained-glass pane inward and leaned casually against the frame.

A suave greeting died on his lips and he frowned out at the empty darkness. “Hello?” he called experimentally. He was  _sure_  he’d heard knocking.

“Hi,” answered a strange, rasping voice.

Jesse looked down, startled. The top half of a pale, feminine face was just showing above the window ledge, with oddly glittery eyes staring up at him. Something in their intensity begged to be described as “maniacal”.

“Oh…hi?” answered the prince, suddenly very uncertain that he should have opened the window at all.

“I saw you in the forest,” this strange visitor continued in the same raspy tone, almost dreamily. Her fingertips appeared over the ledge and she raised herself up until she could rest her chin on the edge. Jesse immediately recognized the girl that John had identified for him as a moth.

“Oh!” Jesse was suddenly ashamed, he had no idea what kind of social standards her people had about modesty. If John was any indication, some people could be quite touchy about being seen naked, even accidentally. “Look, I’m sorry, I hope I didn’t, well what I mean is, um, I, that’s kind of my tree, I go there anyways, I didn’t mean to look if that makes you uncomfortable—“

She blinked at him very slowly. Her long, feathery antennae, which had been laid back flat against her head, smoothly swished up into place. A few strands of intensely red hair were drawn along with them, adding to her wild appearance.

“When I do not want to be seen, I am not,” she said cryptically. Her eyes strayed past him and took in the room. “You did not want to go with the dragonfly. Do you need help to get back to your tree?”

 “Oh, no, it’s all right, I live here.” Jesse assured her, a smile starting to tug at the corners of his mouth. Somewhere under the creepy, this odd creature was a little bit endearing. “This is my family’s palace, all of my friends live here, too.”

“Like a hive?” her forceful gaze snapped back to his face.

“No, uh, not quite,” Jesse’s mind traveled back to the Beekind fortress that he had visited with his father last year. Their own home was neither so fortified nor so organized for production, and they certainly required less from their servants. While he was trying to think of a better way to explain the function of the palace, a chill breeze wafted over them, causing Jesse to shiver slightly, and an expression of discomfort and frustration passed over the moth-girl’s face. The prince was startled at his own rudeness, what was he doing carrying on a conversation with someone who was clinging to the outside of the building by her fingertips? “Oh, I’m sorry, would you like to come in?”

“Yes.”

She hauled herself abruptly over the ledge and into the room, scurrying past Jesse to flop down squarely in the middle of the rug. She sat looking back at him expectantly. The prince closed the window, bemused, and turned to sit in the nearest chair. At least she was wearing clothes now, even if they were a bit rough around the edges. Cultural differences, Jesse had learned over time, were usually a bit easier to handle if everyone just kept their interesting bits covered until everything had been talked over.

Talking, it seemed, was exactly what this visitor had in mind. Or listening, anyway. For as Jesse described the palace and its inhabitants, it became clear that he could not paint a full picture of palace life without also detailing the structure of the monarchy, of Butterflykind families, and the jobs and functions of the servants and guards who also lived in the palace. She took it all in with an expression of rapt attention. Hours passed. Eventually the need for sleep settled over Jesse with a leaden finality, and he yawned out loud three times in one sentence.  

“—excuse me,” he said again after the last one. “I think I need to go to bed. Do you have somewhere to stay? We have guest beds you can borrow (yawn) but we’ll need to introduce you to the guard on watch first, if John finds you on his morning rounds and doesn’t know you’re supposed to be here, it won’t be fun for (yawn) anybody.”

“I have safety nearby,” she said hastily, hopping to her feet. “I will not give the dragonfly reason to be unpleasant to me. Good night, prince.”

She had the window open and was halfway over the sill before he managed to call after her.

“Hey, wait!” She paused and looked back. “What’s your name?”

Slight confusion clouded her glittery eyes. “I am…called…the Dodger,” she said with some thought. Then, with more conviction: “Dodger. Call me Dodger.”

Jesse couldn’t help returning her smile. She was beaming as if the statement had been some kind of major accomplishment.

“Good night, Dodger. You can call me Jesse.”

“Good night, Jesse.” 


	3. Chapter 3

King Jeremy had already been up for hours, muddling through paperwork in the aftermath of the ambassadors’ visit yesterday. More kingdoms in the area wanted to work together these days than ever, and that was great, but the process of meshing trade and culture was fiddly and tiresome. He’d worked up a post-breakfast appetite trying to deal with it all, but too soon for lunch, and he hated to make extra work for his private chef. Thus it was already nearly noon, as he sat at a back table in the servants’ mess—poking idly at some cold egg, scowling at drafts of trade agreements, and twitching his wings in irritation—when his clearly-just-risen eldest son staggered into the room in search of breakfast. He squinted at the crown prince over the heads of the palace workers already sitting down to an early lunch at the tables between them. Whereas the king himself was wearing the old, loose, informal and unadorned clothing that had long signified to his servants that he was spending the day as a humble civil servant rather than an elaborate figurehead worthy of pomp and circumstance, Jesse was just plain a mess.

Had he even slept? Bathed? Looked at his clothes before he put them on? The king stabbed his fork viciously into what was left of his late brunch and left it standing there, resolving that something had to be done. He raised a beckoning hand and shouted over the crowd once Jesse had collected a plate.

“Jesse! Over here, son.”

Jesse looked dismayed, but knew an order when he heard one. He weaved his way through the tables while steadily mastering his expression.

“Morning, Dad,” he said with false bravado, dropping into the seat opposite his father, “Fancy meeting you here.”

“Late night?” the king countered, cutting right to the chase.

“Aren’t you supposed to have breakfast with your advisers, and Mom?” the prince ignored the accusation, trying to spread the blame around a little. Jesse habitually ate with the servants in order to avoid the stuffier members of his family, including his father. A Chat With Dad over breakfast was a sure way to ruin a perfectly good morning.

“I did.”

“Then won’t Mom be annoyed at you for sneaking extra meals?”

“If the king doesn’t have a right to an extra biscuit and a slice of frog bacon while he’s working on affairs of state, I quit,” the king grumbled. Then, returning to his own point, “Seems like every night is a late night for you.”

“So?”

“So maybe you ought to try putting as much effort into learning how to run this kingdom as you do into trying to wear out your bedsprings.”

Jesse scoffed. “You sound like John. Only when he says it, he’s not a hypocrite.”

“There’s such a thing as moderation, Jesse,” the king tried very hard not to snarl. He almost managed it. “Just because our people aren’t—what does he call it? Mono-something? Mono-gaming?” He snatched his fork back up and waved it dismissively. “Whatever. Just because we have sex with lots of people, that doesn’t mean you’re not supposed to have time for anything else.”

Jesse rolled his eyes, but stuffed a forkful of waffle in his mouth rather than answer. Jeremy grated his teeth. This boy would be the death of him.

“Very well, if you do insist on fixating on sex, then, maybe we should talk about your future queen,” the king suggested.

Jesse choked on his waffles. “Dad—“

“I’m not getting any younger, son, and neither are you. You’re of highly marriageable age, and every foreign ruler with an eligible daughter is vying to use her to solidify their position with us,” Jeremy jabbed his fork at his stack of papers for emphasis. “I don’t want that. I want my son to have a queen he knows he can count on. Your mother is my closest advisor, Jesse; you’ve got to have a queen you can trust. You’re not going to get that by fooling around with the maids,” he leaned back and spread his arms wide to encompass the room. “Or maybe you can! Prove me wrong! Marry a servant, it doesn’t matter! But you have  _got_  to pick someone who matters to you and make it serious, or I’m going to have to marry you off to a princess whether anyone likes it or not.”

“It’s not that simple, Dad,” Jesse said in low tones. His frustration at having this conversation  _again_  was showing through.

“Why not? What’s complicated? Something I don’t know? Enlighten me. Someone special you haven’t told us about? Nobody’s off the table if they’re trustworthy, kid, let us in on the secret.”

“You can’t. Force. Love. It doesn’t just happen because it’d be convenient for your schedule,” Jesse spat. He stood up from the table, breakfast only half eaten. “I’ve got better things to do.”

Servants parted before the prince as he stormed off. The king watched their expressions carefully, but none of them seemed exceptionally hurt or offended at having their friendly greetings ignored. Damn. He’d thought he was on to something when he’d implied that Jesse had a secret lover, but if it was true, it didn’t seem to be anyone here.

 ******************************************************************************

“You called for me, Your Highness?”

King Jeremy glanced up to where Captain Bain stood at attention just within the doorway. The king had moved his operations back up to his main office after Jesse had left, affording him better access to the people and resources he needed to get his work done.

“Yes, Captain, I thought I ought to speak with you. It’s about Jesse.”

The Dragonfly’s wings dipped and his eyes widened in disbelief. “Is he gone again  _already_?”

“No, no, he’s only taken leave of his senses at the moment, not of the castle,” Jeremy said dryly, shuffling some papers. “He’s being even more churlish than usual lately. I’ve got an itch in the back of my head where he’s concerned, and parental intuition tells me he’s hiding something.”

“Sir?”

The king folded his hands on the desk in front of him, and leaned forward to give the Captain his full attention for the first time since he’d arrived. “I need you to talk to him, John.”

The captain was visibly taken aback. Jeremy’s tone had been warm and sincere; the king had not made such a personal entreaty of him in all his adult years. He didn’t know how to respond.

“This whole kingdom is going to be in his hands someday,” Jeremy went on, looking down at his hands. Familiarity with the captain felt odd to him, too. “He ought to be growing into that role by now, but it’s like he refuses to grow up. He just gets worse. I can’t get through to him. You’re the only true friend he’s kept all his life, John,” he looked back up to drive the point home. “I think you might be the only one who can reach him.”

Captain Bain stood rooted in place for a few moments, staring, with his mouth opening and closing soundlessly. Eventually he seemed to collect himself, and straightened up and took a deep breath before asking: “Permission to speak freely, Your Majesty?”

“Of course.”

“I think, sir, that you may be remembering a different time between me and Jesse,” John said carefully. “We were very close as children, and I know he remembers that fondly, but…” he fumbled for words, holding out his hands in a gesture of helplessness. He sighed. “Well, for example, there used to be a time when I could say, ‘Hey, Jesse, it’s my job to make sure you show up to things, so I’d really appreciate it if you didn’t risk my career by running off and just be at the thing tomorrow,’ and he’d do it. That hasn’t worked on him in almost two years now.”

Jeremy cocked his head, interested. He hadn’t been aware that that had  _ever_  worked. It certainly wouldn’t have worked if anyone else had tried it. He said as much, and added: “…and he still comes back when you go after him. We tried passing that duty down the chain of command when you were promoted, remember?”

John winced. The king had removed Jesse from his charge at the time, thinking that shepherding the prince was an unnecessary addition to his new duties, and it had ended in absolute disaster. One after another, John’s subordinates had proven how difficult the task of keeping track of Jesse could really be. When the last one had tried confining him to his room, in chains, under guard…it had taken John a week to find him, and the better part of a day to convince him to come back. With a pang of guilt, John remembered that Jesse had only agreed in the end when John had promised to do whatever was necessary to make sure he was given back sole responsibility for Jesse, even if it meant giving up his promotion. The fact that he didn’t have to had seemed like a bonus to John, but the distance in their relationship had definitely increased after that.

“That’s as may be, sir, but I can’t remember the last time we shared a pleasant moment together,” John countered, sadly. “I never see him except to fetch him.”

“In that case, Captain,” Jeremy’s tone was suddenly hard as steel, “You may consider this an order, and not just because I want to know what he’s hiding. Pick a few of your lesser duties and hand them off to someone else, so that you can spend time getting close to my son again. I remember the way you guarded his chrysalis. Caring like that shouldn’t be allowed to go for nothing. Dismissed.”

Once the dragonfly had disappeared into the corridor, the king allowed his shoulders to slump. He buried his face in his hands, frustrated and dismayed. The one constant he’d been sure he knew about his most troublesome son was that he and the captain were joined at the hip. If Jesse didn’t even have the people skills to hold onto a friendship that had stood rock-solid for twenty years, maybe it was time to start encouraging him to abdicate, and groom one of his younger siblings for the crown instead. 


	4. Chapter 4

After a little light rescheduling, foisting off his afternoon rounds indefinitely on an ambitious lieutenant, John struck out into the palace in search of Jesse. He wasn’t quite sure how to look for a prince who wasn’t actively hiding, anymore. In the end, his feet followed the old familiar paths, only with more awkwardness and less urgency.

He finally found Jesse at the stables, leaning over a stall gate to scratch a young mouse behind the ears. The prince looked up at the sound of footsteps. John was briefly gladdened by the merriment apparent on Jesse’s face when their eyes met, reminded of easier times—but the feeling was gone in an instant. As soon as Jesse saw who was coming, he jumped back from the stall and started backpedaling down the alleyway with his hands out in front of him as if to ward off the intruder.

“No. NO. Whatever Dad wants: no,” Jesse said hurriedly, glowering in defiance. “I didn’t do anything. Whatever it is, I didn’t do it. Whatever he has scheduled, I didn’t agree to it. You’ll have to catch me—oof!”

In his backwards-haste, Jesse tripped over an uneven spot in the floor and went sprawling. John went down on one knee beside him, once he’d caught up, and rested a firm hand on his shoulder.

“Has it really gotten this bad?” the captain asked softly. “I can’t even walk down a hall without you assuming I’ve been sent to wrangle you for something awful?”

Jesse crossed his arms, resigning himself to lie in the dirt for a while. “Don’t give me that ‘just passing through’ crap, you were coming right at me with that face you make when you’ve got orders.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s just my face.”

“I’m pretty sure you’ve always got orders.”

“Reasonable point,” John conceded.

“What do you want, anyway? I need to know so I know how fast to fly away.”

“I was just–!” John cut himself off before he could raise his voice, much. He shut his eyes and took a deep breath. Chewing Jesse out for being a pest wouldn’t be a great start to rekindling their friendship; neither would telling him that he’d only come because he’d been ordered to make nice. He would have to pretend it’d been his own idea. “I just wanted to see you,” he said deliberately, as if to a slow child, “Maybe spend a little time with my old pal. Outside of him causing me trouble, that is.”

“Since when do you have time for that?”

“Another reasonable point,” John sat back on his haunches, allowing Jesse to sit up if he wanted to. The prince remained resolutely in the dirt. “I made some time. I am actually  _in charge_  of the guard these days, you know.”

Jesse sat up warily, eyebrows and antennae quirked in interest. A brief stare-down ensued; the captain looked very uncomfortable but seemed to be sticking to his story. The prince, unable to detect any deeper truth, very slowly broke into a surprised, open-mouthed grin.

“Well. Isn’t that interesting,” said Jesse, folding his arms nonchalantly. “And here I thought you’d forgotten how to have fun.”

John started to reply indignantly, but froze. His mouth snapped shut into a very melodramatic frown of consternation. “I may have, at that. Teach me?”

Baffled by his old friend’s sudden but seemingly genuine attempt to reach out, Jesse giggled, shook his head, and shoved him playfully on the knee, causing John to lose his balance and tip over. The dragonfly flailed helplessly for a moment before making a most undignified landing on his abdomen. Jesse laughed.

“For starters, you’re much too clean,” the prince grinned, grabbing a couple of handfuls of dirt from the floor. He lunged at the captain and started scrubbing the grit into the front of his uniform, ruining its freshly-pressed crispness. “Better!” he commented cheerily. John’s jacket would never be the same. “Now c’mon, lets hit the kitchens and grab a picnic lunch, I know just the place.”

****************************************************

Sunlight glittered merrily from the surface of the little stream. John had almost forgotten about this place, and now that they were here again he could hardly believe his own carelessness at letting such memories die. This was the  _best_ swimming hole that a young prince and his constant companion could ever hope to find, and find it they had. The flat, sun-warmed rocks along the edge were just as lovely for picnicking on as they had ever been, as well.

“Just like old times, eh buddy?” Jesse grinned up at him, reclining with a bite of fruit in his hand.

“Near enough,” John answered. Contentment was seeping into his soul, and it was a worryingly unfamiliar feeling. “Didn’t have so many pins on my shirt, back then.”

Jesse eyed the line of medals resentfully. “I duno why Dad keeps giving you those, it’s not like you’ve been to war or anything.”

“He seems to think I deserve them, probably for putting up with you.”

“Ass,” Jesse retorted, reaching into the picnic basket. He pulled out a bottle of honeysuckle nectar, his favorite.

“Oh, EW! Don’t! Put that away, drink like a grown up!” the captain protested, holding up his hands to shield his eyes from the sight.

Jesse hastily sucked his proboscis back in, unable to speak until it was fully retracted into the folds of his throat. He coughed a little, he’d pulled it back too suddenly. “What?” he finally managed. “Are you still grossed out by that? How goddam long have you been living with Butterflies, again?”

“NO Butterfly over the age of fifteen does that,  **especially**  royals,  _except you!_ ” John insisted, pointing an accusing finger at the prince. “That is TERRIBLE manners and you know it!”

“I need it to drink! It’s not my fault, that’s how my body works!”

“And yet every other member of your race has learned how to do it without it hanging out of their mouths for the whole world to see!”

“That’s  _hard_!” Jesse protested. “It’s just part of my body, why can’t you stand to see it?”

“Just because something is a natural part of your anatomy doesn’t mean it’s appropriate to get it out during dinner,” John remarked, with a pointedly raised eyebrow.

Jesse snickered, and nonchalantly began to reach for the buttons on the front of his own pants.

“ _Do not get that out either or I will throw you in the water._ ”

Jesse laughed. “Actually that’s not a bad idea, wanna go swimming?”

John choked back an instant and definite  ** _no_** , amending it before speaking. “Not, um. Not naked. Please.”

“Why not? We always used to.”

“We used to be little kids,” John pointed out. He looked deeply self-conscious.

“Too much for your Dragonfly sensibilities, huh?” Jesse chewed on his lip, not sure why he’d even tried to press the issue. Of course John would be uncomfortable getting naked with another grown man, even Jesse, because Dragonflies don’t just  _do_  that like Butterflies do. Dragonflies mate for life, which probably meant that John was still a virgin, but even if he wasn’t he certainly didn’t get around much in that sense. He wasn’t used to being naked in front of people, especially not naked people. It still meant something to him. It still meant everything to him. Jesse had stopped giving a shit about clothes years ago. “Well, whatever. We don’t have to go swimming if you don’t want to.”

John sat up straighter and set his shoulders. “No, I’m re-learning fun today. I can’t just  _not_  go swimming. I prefer to keep my pants, is all.”

“Do I have to wear pants?”

“I wish you would,” John said meekly.

“Awesome then  _last one in the water is a rotten seed!_ ”

“Oy!” John scrambled after him, getting consistently hit in the face with each piece of hastily-removed clothing that was thrown back over Jesse’s shoulder. He suspected the prince was aiming then at him to purposely slow him down.


	5. Chapter 5

Captain Bain returned to his own quarters that night a troubled man. It was bad enough that he’d lost touch with his old friend. It was worse that the king had ordered him to spy on the prince. It was completely terrible that all the fun they’d had today was because of a lie. 

Jesse would be furious or heartbroken or both if he ever found out, and John was already feeling guilty. Once upon a time, he would have done anything for Jesse, it would have been his secrets the Dragonfly was keeping and his lies he repeated to other members of the royal family. Once upon a time, other people would be spying on  _him_  to learn what Jesse was up to. When had his loyalties changed so drastically?

The captain trudged morosely over to his desk and dropped into the chair with a defeated sigh. He knew exactly when these things had begun to change. The same day everything else had changed. 

**********************************************************************************

_About ten years ago…_

The high-pitched shrieks of a distraught child drew the guards into the crown prince’s room. Not those of the prince himself, but those of the young dragonfly boy who had just gone in to rouse his friend for a day of adventures. Bursting through the doorway, the guards found him kneeling on the bed, desperately shaking an unmoving figure.

“He won’t wake up! Look at him he’s wrong, fix him!” the dragonfly child cried, pointing to the prince. 

The guards, upon looking over his shoulder, sighed and laughed with relief. John stared around at them in dismay, about to burst into tears. 

“There there, young master, it’s all right,” one of the men assured him, placing a hand on his shoulder. “The prince will be fine, he’s just going to sleep for a while.”

John looked down at Jesse again, certain that the guards weren’t looking at the same boy if they thought that. “No, look!” he insisted, “His skin is all hard and, and–!”

“Hey now, take it easy,” the same guard continued. “Did nobody tell you how Butterflies grow up?”

The little Dragonfly shook his head and looked back up at the guard. He was the only child in his adoptive family as well as the only Dragonfly; his parents had rather decided that the facts of life were a confusing and unnecessary topic that their son would probably find out about in the castle eventually anyway. 

The guard smiled down at him. “It’s all right, son,” he repeated. “The prince is just going to sleep for a few days, so that he can grow up. His body is going to change. When he gets done, he’ll be a proper butterfly, just like the King and Queen. A man grown. But until then, he needs to rest, and he needs to stay safe. That’s why he looks so funny, his skin is growing a nice hard shell to protect him until it’s all over. Do you understand?”

John had begun to nod, organizing the hundreds of questions he wanted to ask next, but before he could speak the room was flooded with royals. Not only the King and Queen but also a small herd of caterpillar children and all the attendant nurses and nannies bustled into the room, eager to see for themselves and celebrate: the prince was becoming a man.

This was no place for the adopted son of a local shopkeeper. This was a family event, through and through. John wove between fluttering wings and shuffling legs until he reached the door, and made good his escape. 

He stayed out of the room for the rest of that day, but kept tabs on the comings and goings of everyone who entered. Late that evening, when he had determined that all but the guards had left again, he returned. He’d always felt more comfortable around the palace guards than any other adult members of the household. For reasons the young boy didn’t yet understand, they always treated him as if he belonged. 

John peered cautiously through the door into the now candle-lit room. Normally guards patrolled this hallway at night, and in times of slightly heightened security, one would be posted outside Jesse’s door. Tonight, one was seated by his bedside. It was the same guard who had tried to explain to John that morning, a Cicadakind named Fredrick.

John liked Fredrick. Fredrick was big and round, in the way of his people. Just like John, he was unique among the palace household; the only Cicada the young Dragonfly had ever met. It was almost as good as having someone like himself around. Fredrick understood. 

So, seeing a friendly face inside, John entered with a soft knock on the doorframe. 

“Ah, there you are again,” the Cicada said with a knowing smile. “Come on then, lad, everything’s all right.”

There was another chair nearby, so John pulled it up next to the bed and crawled into it. He stared down wordlessly at what he could now barely recognize as his best friend. The hard shell that had only begun to form over Jesse’s skin this morning was slowly losing its shape, morphing into a more solid mass. He could just see the prince’s face and limbs still defined under the surface. 

Fredrick chuckled at the horrified look on his face. “You poor thing,” he tutted, “Someone ought to be scolded for letting you reach this age without knowing where wings come from.”

John glanced back over his shoulder at his own wings, confused. 

“Yes, I know, you’ve always had them. Some Kinds just do. Others, we have to do this part,” the Cicada gestured to the prince. “My people have something a bit like this, but easier,” he went on, “Butterflies have one of the most complex changes of all Kinds. Still, it’s just a part of life. Let me tell you about it, you’ll feel better.”

The boy just nodded and huddled back in his chair, settling in for what turned out to be a very long lecture, complete with many questions and many, many answers. Years later John would still feel random pangs of appreciation towards that old guard for taking the time to help him cope. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to do the same, if a child had started asking him about…things. 

That night John fell asleep in the chair by Jesse’s bedside, and woke to find that Fredrick had tucked a pillow under his head and covered him with a blanket sometime in the night. The guard who had come to relieve Fredrick from his post long before dawn was watching over them both just as indulgently as the Cicada had. 

During the second day of Jesse’s change, the guards carefully transferred the prince to a special litter and carried him to another room, a small ceremonial chamber that John had never known the purpose of. Fredrick had said that the entire process of the change was considered sacred and personal, but no guard ever made the little Dragonfly feel as if he were unwanted, and even the King only smiled slightly whenever he noticed John’s presence. 

The shell that covered Jesse obscured him almost completely now. A “chrysalis”, Fredrick had called it. It had formed up into a tapered cylinder just big enough to contain the prince if he were curled up tightly inside. They laid it, him, on something like a cot atop a dais in the center of the room, and lit candles around the walls. The family said a few ceremonial words and left to continue their daily duties, leaving only the guards. 

John didn’t leave, and nobody tried to make him. One of the priests hesitated before exiting the chamber, and stopped to gently remind John that it was vitally important that the prince not be moved after this point. Jesse was very fragile inside his shell now, and any impact or movement could potentially kill him or leave him disabled for life. John nodded solemnly. 

Nobody told him to leave. Nobody  _ever_  told him to leave. For the next three days, rotations of guards quietly provided him with food and water, and not one raised an eyebrow when they found him still there on their next shift. 

Occasionally, when the guards were changing, they would step outside the room to exchange news for a moment. None of them feared leaving John alone with the prince; he’d taken the priest’s words about Jesse’s fragility to heart. Every guard on Jesse-duty had grown familiar with the sound of the sudden fearful gasp from the corner every time it looked as if they might accidentally bump into the royal chrysalis. 

Sometimes when thusly left alone–the guards would have been surprised to learn–the young Dragonfly would pad silently over to the raised chrysalis and peer anxiously at its surface, as if looking hard enough would allow him to see into its depths. A few times, he laid one open palm on the surface where it looked like Jesse’s arm should be, very delicately. Even he wasn’t sure what he hoped to gain by this. The temptation to check on his friend was simply overwhelming.

Early in the evening of the third day, John got such a chance again. He found himself itching to check on Jesse, so as soon as it was clear that the guards would be gone for a few moments, he slipped from his perch in the corner and skittered quickly over to his immobile friend. The shell of the chrysalis was taking on a new texture now, patterned with vein-like shapes that recalled the patterns of an adult monarch’s wings. John traced the line of one vein with the tip of his finger, where it crossed over the long, low lump that he had long since decided marked the position of Jesse’s forearm.

A flicker of movement caught John’s eye. For a moment, he thought it was only a trick of the light, the reflection of a guttering candle or something similar. But then, again, something moved under the surface. It was difficult for him to understand what he was seeing, it was like the shell was moving and staying in place at the same time. The shape was still, but the colors slipped out of alignment. Then something about the size of a hand pushed out against his palm from inside, and it clicked. 

“Oh…OH! HE’S AWAKE! HE’S MOVING!” John shouted to the guards in the hall. He didn’t take his eyes or hands off of the chrysalis until the guards arrived behind him at a run. 

“Steady now, lad, give him some room,” admonished one, a rather grizzled female Butterfly whose name John couldn’t recall. “Send for the King,” she commanded the other.

The guard led John back a few steps and held him by the shoulders. “This is the good part, son, watch now…come on, little highness, you can do it, come on!”

She continued to mutter encouragement under her breath, but John had ears only for the faint, drum-like thumping from within the chrysalis. The seconds dragged like hours as John watched the thing begin to sway in its perch from Jesse’s struggles. 

He couldn’t stand it. He leapt forward. The guard caught him.

“He needs help!” John shrilled, indignant.

“No, son, he needs to be strong enough to do it himself,” she said, very serious. “Just watch. He’ll do it.”

John was dubious at best. Jesse was not a strong boy. Palace living had kept him soft. 

Just as the guard had said, though, the shell suddenly cracked and split down the middle. A small amount of thick, mucus-type liquid splashed out, but it didn’t look like much space inside was occupied by fluids. There was too much Jesse jammed in there to leave room for anything else. The instant the shell broke, a harsh, racking cough began to echo through the room. 

John struggled again, but at that moment the royal family arrived once more. This time only the parents came. The King and Queen hastened to the dais, and for a moment John’s view was blocked. Some wiry, goo-covered limbs flailed into view here and there, but he didn’t get his first good look at the newly liberated prince until the boy was fully free, seated on the edge of the cot with the wreckage of the chrysalis behind him.

John’s eyes widened. Fredrick had tried to prepare him, had warned him that the prince would be different, but this…this was not his Jesse.

His Jesse was a soft, round child, with stripes on his face and short stubby limbs. This boy was gangly, thin, almost gaunt. The stripes were all gone. Wet, crumpled wings of deep golden orange were already beginning to dry and unfurl behind him. He was still coughing, but John could already tell that his voice had gotten deeper. 

“Easy, son, take time to breathe,” the King was saying soothingly. He had the grin of a proud papa on his face. “Take time to get used to it again.”

The prince put his hands on his throat, he seemed to be choking. All at once, something long and black and pointed slid out of his mouth. John panicked, it looked like he was vomiting out oil, until it stopped. The thing hung there like a long black tongue, wickedly hard and sharp.

The King laughed. “Suck that back, now,” he prompted. “You’ll get used to it. Just like swallowing, see?" 

Jeremy demonstrated by extruding an identical monstrosity from his own mouth, then easily retracting it. John took an involuntary step back. He’d had no idea the King had such a thing in his mouth. 

With visible effort, Jesse pulled the proboscis back in, and gasped for breath once it was gone. At last, he seemed to be getting a handle on himself.

"Sweet gods that is inconvenient,” the prince gasped. “urk–”

He choked on his own proboscis a few more times before he started to master speaking and breathing without flexing the muscles that extended it. John looked on in horror. The King and Queen laughed along encouragingly, ignoring the traumatized Dragonfly in the corner.

The King clapped his son on the back. “Well, there’s one thing that’s grown in correctly,” he said cheerfully. 

“I guess so,” Jesse coughed, concentrating on speaking. “I take it that weird feeling behind me is wings,” the brand-new limbs in question flexed and twitched as he mentioned them. “And it feels like I’m sitting on my spine because…yup, abdomen’s gone,” Jesse reached behind himself to confirm the new shape of his backside. “And…uh…” a deep blush crept across his cheeks as his hands moved around to his front. “Yeah um. That’s. That’s there too.”

The Queen laughed and hugged him close, heedless of any slime that might get on her regal clothing. 

“Oh, precious baby, don’t be embarrassed,” she soothed. “Even that, you’ll get used to. I promise you in a few years, you’ll be positively  _proud_  of it.”

*************************************************************************************

John scowled at his memories. The Queen’s prophesy had come true and more, and that was exactly the problem. Jesse’s blossoming into adulthood had been the first stumbling block in their relationship. 

As Jesse had grown older, his appetites for certain activities had grown as well. Since John had less than zero interest in participating himself, by default they spent less and less time together. John had joined the guard, as was expected of him, and only threw himself more vigorously into his training every time he stumbled into one of Jesse’s…playdates…by accident. He didn’t want to be there for that. 

It started with spending less time together. It led to only being together when he was invited. And then, gradually, it had led to only being together when duty demanded it. 

John slammed his fist down on the desk and gritted his teeth in impotent fury. Gods-damned Butterflies. Why did they have to grow up?

                                                    ***

Meanwhile, in Jesse’s quarters, the crown prince was humming happily to himself as he lay atop the bedclothes, still fully dressed. He had no inkling that the day’s events had been anything other than a long-overdue rekindling of something he’d missed dearly. He smiled gleefully up at the ceiling. The day hadn’t gone to plan at all, but he could hardly have asked for better. 

A knock sounded at his window just as it had the night before, and he bounded to his feet, bursting with good news. He flung open the shutters and grinned down at the small, wild face peering up over the ledge. 

“Come in!” he welcomed the Moth girl cheerily. “Come in come in, we have so much to talk about!”

“Okay,” Dodger rasped, watching him steadily with her glittery eyes as she hauled herself over the sill into the room. 

“I’m so sorry I missed you in the stables, I really did want to teach you to ride, but the most wonderful thing happened instead!”

“The Dragonfly was there,” she supplied. 

Jesse blinked, startled. “Yeah, John came! How did you know?”

“I was there also.”

“I never saw you…?”

“When I do not wish to be seen, I am not,” she said casually, repeating her words from the night before. 

“I don’t understand.”

Dodger clucked her tongue at him, as if he were simple. Then, quite suddenly, she vanished. 

Jesse yelped sharply in surprise and clapped his hands over his mouth. After a second or two, he lowered them, and whispered, “Dodger?”

“I am here,” she answered. If Jesse peered very closely, he could just barely make out bits of outline around where she was sitting. He never could have spotted them if he hadn’t been watching when she’d disappeared. 

“That is incredible,” he stated, thoroughly impressed. 

She reappeared in a blink. “Common Moth magic,” she said dismissively. 

“Can you teach me?” he asked excitedly.

“ ** _Moth_**. Magic,” she repeated.

“Oh. Okay.”

“So tell me what is wonderful about the cruel Dragonfly disrupting the riding lessons,” Dodger prompted. Her voice was always completely even and deadpan, but he heard the disapproval. 

“John’s not cruel, he’s great,” Jesse began. 

Whether he’d meant to or not, the prince spent the entire time that night explaining how he and John had grown up together. All that they’d shared, all that they’d done, and how desperately he missed it all. He even admitted to causing trouble just to get John’s attention. 

The Moth girl had listened patiently to all of his stories that night, just as she had listened to his explanations of the monarchy and palace the night before. She took it all in, asking few questions, expression and tone never changing. Jesse poured his heart out, glad of someone new that he could really  _talk_  to.

The prince was such a trusting soul.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> things get SLIGHTLY SAUCY in this one brace yourselves.

Dodger held perfectly still, not breaking from her kneeling posture on the cave floor. A drop of blood fell from her lip to the dirt. She paid it no mind. Just another bruise to magic away before she could return to the prince. Nothing she couldn’t take care of. She had lots of practice. 

“I’ll ask you again,  _where is the prince?_ ”

“In his palace,” the Moth droned sullenly, repeating her answer. 

This time she got a kick in the ribs for her insolence.

“You know what I mean!” spat the man who had kicked her. “It’s been a week since you gained his trust, why haven’t you brought him yet?”

“The Dragonfly." 

"The prince and the captain are no longer friends, all of our spies have told us this. The prince leaves the castle all of the time, for  _any reason_. YOU ARE NOT TRYING.”

Dodger shut her eyes and tensed, waiting for the next blow. She daren’t move or look up. The boot landed on her face again, worsening her split lip. She watched his shoes as he paced away, noting the smear of blood on the right toe. 

“This is not the case,” she said calmly. Always calm. Emotions only added fuel to the master’s fire. “The Dragonfly is nearby always. The prince refuses to leave, in fear that he will miss an opportunity to be near the captain. The spies were not correct. I hide, I see. The spies were not correct.”

The master replied only with a snarl. Dodger relaxed slightly. It seemed he was beginning to believe her. 

“We will continue as planned,” he said eventually, his voice coming from behind her.

“The prince refuses–”

“The spies were not  _wrong,_  something has changed. We’ve only got to change it back first,” crunching footsteps crossed the cave toward her and Dodger stiffened again, not sure what to expect. A large hand seized her by the back of her collar and dragged her to her feet. “If you’re so good at learning the truth, YOU find out what’s changed. Make them fucking hate each other again. Last chance to get it right, witch,” the hand shoved her forward and sent her stumbling toward the exit. “Don’t come back without him.”

***************************************************************************************

“Captain. Anything to report yet?”

John stood smartly to attention before the king’s desk. “Nothing much yet, I’m afraid, sire. It may take some time to recover his trust. It’s only been a week.”

King Jeremy heaved a sigh and kneaded his brow. “Ugh. I’ve never had the patience for intrigue. I wish he’d just tell me what he’s doing.”

“It does seem like he’s up to something,” the captain admitted. “I often catch him smirking at some private joke. Many times I’ve approached a room, heard him talking with someone inside, and then found him alone and looking guilty. I don’t know what to make of it, unless what he’s hiding is a person rather than a plan. Did you suspect anything in particular, sire?”

“He’s very cagey about the issue of taking a queen,” the king said, morosely shuffling papers. “I had not so much suspected as  _hoped_  that he was keeping a secret lover. Maybe that’s true, if he’s hiding a person. Try and catch them, will you?" 

John paled slightly. "Er….in the act?" 

"No, no, that’s not necessary, just catch the person on palace grounds somewhere and make the both of them tell you what the hell is going on.”

“Oh. Yes. Of course. Consider it done." 

The captain saluted his king and was dismissed. Only after he was gone, and after the king had turned his attention back to his papers, and only if you had known where to look, there was the tiniest flicker of movement in the corner, like the faint outline of a small person getting up to leave.

******************************************************************************************

"My prince?" 

Jesse looked up with a broad grin; there was no mistaking that raspy voice. 

"Dodger! Good, I’m glad you got here in time, John’s coming to pick me up soon and I was hoping you’d get here first so you can follow–”

“My prince, I have ill news.”

The Butterfly’s face fell. “What’s wrong?”

“I have been following the Dragonfly. I had thought to create an amusing game. If you were to know small things that he has done out of your sight, you might make mention of details and create much confusion. All was in fun.”

“Is he okay?” Jesse asked, worried.

“He is well, but he is not loyal to you, my prince,” Dodger stared at him with the same glittery, unblinking gaze as always, but today it seemed more intense. “Just as I had intended to report to you on what he does, so he in turn reports to your father, and not in fun. I watched out of sight while he gave detail on every moment spent with you in this week. My prince, he has not returned out of love for you, but in desire for his own advancement. The king himself commanded the Dragonfly to come to you under guise of friendship. All has been lies.”

Jesse sat open-mouthed, fighting the lump in his throat.

“No,” he choked, “No he wouldn’t, he didn’t, he came back because he missed me,” he insisted, but it sounded like a lie in his own ears. 

How stupid must he have been, to believe John had suddenly thrown off the yoke of responsibility just to be with him again? How could years and years of duties and reasons to stay apart have suddenly disappeared? An order from the king, that’s how. 

“He wouldn’t,” Jesse repeated. He squeezed his eyes shut, fighting back the tears. “Oh gods, yes he would.”

 _Common Moth magic_ , Dodger had told him when she’d vanished before his eyes. He hadn’t thought to ask what other mind-tricks were common to Moths.

“I’m gonna get him for this,” Jesse suddenly seethed, hurt replaced by fury. He didn’t question it. It  _felt_  natural. “I’m gonna punch him in his smug stupid face until it  _ **breaks**_.”

“My prince, no,” Dodger broke in. “If you act in anger he will know, and he will need to know how you know, and then he will know of me. It will be disaster if he learns of my spying, he will lock me away.”

Jesse only snarled. Wow. Maybe she’d overdone it.

“Perhaps, prince, a more expected act?” she suggested, trying to tone down the rage she’d inflicted. “Violence will raise questions, but defiance through ordinary behavior he dislikes…?”

The prince’s expression brightened. 

“Oh, I know just the thing.”

*******************************************************************************************

By the time he reached Jesse’s quarters, Captain Bain had all but cleared his mind of the morally conflicting tasks assigned to him by the king. He’d keep an eye out for anyone who didn’t belong in the castle, sure, but he was having too good of a time hanging out with Jesse again to want to hurry about it. It would probably get a lot harder to make time for him again when this was over.

Having become accustomed once more to finding the prince ready and willing to spend time with him, John barely paused after knocking on the door before pushing it open and walking in. 

He’d forgotten why he’d learned to wait outside until called. 

The captain stood frozen in the open doorway, one foot in the room, gripping the doorknob so hard it nearly cracked. His mouth was dry and his face was on fire. He couldn’t seem to move, or take his eyes off the prince. Unfortunately for him, it took almost a minute for Jesse to notice he was there. 

“Oh hey cap,” Jesse greeted him casually, stretching out his jaw to keep it from cramping, “I forgot you were coming.”

“S-speaking of…ahh…” muttered one of the stablehands John hadn’t been expecting to find here. 

Jesse smiled and pressed back against the one who’d spoken, letting his eyes drift shut and giving a satisfied sigh. “Mmm, well done. Time to trade." 

John tried not to watch, he really did. He even managed to look away for a few moments, not that it did any good. The sounds were far to illustrative on their own, and it wasn’t as if he could shut his ears. 

Jesse cleared his throat, once rearranged, drawing John’s attention back to him against his will. 

"So…were you planning to wait for me right there, or did you want to come in and join us? Cuz you’re lettin’ in a draft, man, you gotta be in or out and close that door.”

John had to try a few times to get words to come out. He was trying not to count how many naked bodies (four) or notice their faces and remember their names (that was Lyla there, she worked in the kitchens and had a way with pudding, and Trevor from the livery stables lying down now, and Garen was one of John’s own cadets) nor notice the way Jesse was moving (so perfectly in time with the others, especially the one behind him) and most of all trying not to look  _down_  at all. 

“No I think…” John’s voice broke slightly. “I think I’ll just go. Find some work to do. Sort of thing. I’m. See you later.”

The door slammed loudly after him, and Jesse smirked evilly at it for a few long moments before turning back to bury his face in whatever soft and pleasant parts his playmates offered him. 

 _You’ll see me later all right,_  he thought smugly,  _And you’ll see a lot more of me than you want to._


End file.
